Ain't Love Grande?
by Nolebucgrl
Summary: Bella Swan is having a no-good, very bad morning. And then she runs into him. The day can only get better from there, can't it? Or not. Two souls collide over coffee.


**A/N BEFORE YOU READ, READ THIS! Hello! Now, you may or may not remember that I was a judge in the Meet the Mate contest. Of course, after I agreed to be a judge, I happened to have a dream, a la SM, and this was the result. I couldn't enter the contest, obviously, but I wrote it anyway. And now, this is why I insist you read this AN: This is, of course, only the actual meet. How they get from point A to point B isn't yet known to me. There are no more chapters. Does that mean that one day inspiration will strike and I'll come back to it? Possibly. Keep it on alert. :) But know that right now, it's not expanding! Just a O/S with potential for more and if I can, I'll extend it.**

 **I hope you have fun with these two. They make me laugh. And thank you to all the Meet the Mate entrants! So many great stories. Results are up and quite a few are going to expand, so go read and alert those bad boys! See you soon! Have fun :)**

Ain't Love Grande?

Hot. Rich. Dark. My lips curve automatically as I open my eyes. There's no better way to wake up. I take a deep breath, wanting to inhale the scent into my body. If I could bathe in it, I would. If I could…wait a minute. Where's the scent? Where the hell is the glorious, perfect smell?

I flail out, but I'm not sure for what. There's nobody in bed next to me, and there hasn't been for a long, long time. I was pretty sure I was a born-again virgin at this point, but that was inconsequential. Sex, I could do without. Coffee? Not so much.

I sat up and glanced at my nightstand, where my clock radio should be showing me the time. Nothing. Fabulous. The power was out, again. Which meant that my coffee maker, my beloved Bonavita, was not doing her thing: pumping out the nectar of the gods, providing me with the only nourishment I truly needed to get through the day.

The day. Today. Oh, no. Oh, shit! What time was it? I fumbled for my cell phone, but it had been dead when I plugged it in last night and apparently it was still dead today. Wonderful. Now I had to let in the damn light and find out what time it was. This wasn't good. Why today, of all days?

I managed to extricate myself from the bed, which took longer than usual because my covers were tangled all over hell and back, almost as if I'd actually not slept alone, but no such luck. I'd just been cold as hell because the heat wasn't on because the power was out. Funny how that worked. The douchebag super was getting a piece of my mind later.

I tripped over last night's discarded sweater and jeans as I made my way to the window. I pulled back the room-darkening curtains I had to have because I was basically like a vampire when it came to sunlight. Get that shit away from me unless I've had about a gallon of coffee first. I flipped open the blinds, and the light spilled into the room. Crap. I hadn't gotten up early, as had been my plan. No, it was far too bright.

My watch was on my dresser. I grabbed it, bracing for the bad news but not really expecting to see that it was after nine. Seventeen minutes after nine. And I had a job interview at ten.

"Fuck!"

I was royally fucked. A shower was obviously out, so I yanked a bra and some underwear out of my dresser and pulled them on. My one and only suit, the one I used for every single interview I went on and failed to get, was ready and waiting. It was flattering enough, in an off-the-rack from Marshall's sort of way. Hey, if I could afford to dress better, I probably wouldn't be on a job interview, now would I?

The navy skirt was a little snug, but it made my ass look pretty awesome, and since I was interviewing with a man, it couldn't hurt. I buttoned up my blouse, spritzed myself with the perfume Tyler had given me for Christmas a couple of years ago, clipped on my watch since I'd obviously need it, slipped on my heels, grabbed my jacket, and hightailed it out of the room.

If I timed it right, I might just have enough time to grab a cup of coffee before the interview. Who was I kidding? I was going to make time. If I attempted to do the interview without coffee, God only knew what would happen. I'd probably agree to relocate to Nepal and fast with the Dalai Lama or some damn thing. Maybe I'd sign up to be a mercenary assassin. Or a nun. Wait, that wasn't such a stretch. I'd already been living like one.

By some minor miracle, or maybe because the universe was trying to make up for fucking with me, I managed to get a cab with minimal effort. And, because she truly did owe me, the universe provided again. Right next door to the building which held my possible future in its steel and shiny windows was heaven. God had provided. She and I were back on speaking terms the instant I saw that glorious green awning.

I thanked every deity I could remember-because who could be sure really; may as well be all inclusive and not piss anybody off-as I paid off the cabbie and headed inside. The smell! The glorious, fantastic, wonderful smell! Finally, I could wake up and be functional. Maybe, just maybe, I'd manage to get this job after all.

Just as I stepped toward the line, a jackass in a perfect gray suit, looking like it came straight off the Armani runway, stepped in front of me.

"Excuse me," I said in my haughtiest voice.

Slick-suited shithead didn't hear me, so I said it again, louder.

"Asshole," he said, which pissed me right the hell off. He cut in front of me, and I was the asshole?

"I'll have you know that if anyone in here is an asshole, it's you! I was here first, and you took my place in line."

He laughed, and if he weren't a giant bag of dicks, I might have actually enjoyed the rich sound of said laughter, but as it was, all it did was make me want to hit him. I curled my fingers into my palms, whether to form a fist or to restrain myself, I couldn't say yet. It was fifty-fifty at the moment.

"I can't. I'm late as it is."

And it was then that I realized that he hadn't been calling me an asshole. No, he was just attached to his cell phone, too busy talking to be bothered to notice that he'd coffee-blocked a sweet woman in her time of need. Maybe I wouldn't hit him, even if he was a blind prick.

"I wish, J. I might be able to get out of the office by four…"

Four? Quite the workaholic, aren't we, Mr. Suit? With those threads and that laissez-faire attitude, he was probably a banker or a lawyer or something. Rich, coffee-blocking asshole.

"Well, she'll just have to wait, then!"

Oh sure, she'd wait for you, Mr. Suit, because you're so awesome and perfect. I'm sure girls just wait with baited breath for you to give them a second of your precious time.

"Just tell her it'll be worth it."

Right. Because her time is way less important than yours is. Typical.

"Can I take your order?"

Finally! Mr. Slick was up to order, and then it was my turn. And I still had seven minutes before I had to be at my interview. Everything was coming up Bella now.

Well, it was, except Inconsiderate Ass kept yapping on his phone, rather than placing his order.

Barista chick tried again. "Hello, sir. Can I take your order?"

Nothing but that sexy laugh again.

"May I take your order?"

The third time is the charm, only it wasn't, because Larry the Line-Cutter, who'd been in such a hurry before that he couldn't be bothered to notice me, was too engrossed in his phone call to answer.

And I was out of time-well, not technically, since I still had six minutes, but I was definitely out of patience. So, I gave him a tiny shove forward, that didn't end up being so tiny. But it did serve to push him into the counter, where he was supposed to be placing his order. Perhaps he'd notice he was at the front of the line now.

"What the-" he said, finally taking the phone from his ear as he turned around to see who'd pushed him.

Well, hot damn. Women probably did wait with baited breath for him to give them a second of his precious time. Women who weren't annoyed like me, that is. But I could appreciate the sight anyway.

He was tall, which I already knew, and had reddish-brown hair that was so perfectly coiffed, he must have spent about an hour on that alone. His eyes were a beautiful green, sort of a blue-green, which looked like a tropical ocean somewhere I'd only seen in pictures. And yeah, his face went with the rest of the package. Chiseled and cut and perfect.

I was painfully aware of the fact that I'd spent approximately three minutes getting ready this morning, while this bastion of beauty in front of me probably took hours. Or even worse, he was just born looking that way. Ass.

I plastered a bright smile on my face at the bewildered confusion on his and gestured to him to go ahead and place his order. It wasn't the gesture I wanted to make at him, but I was attempting to be civil.

"What?" he asked.

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or his phone buddy, but I answered him anyway.

"It's time to place your order. She's asked you what you wanted three times. And three times, you've continued on your conversation instead of ordering so the rest of us could do the same."

Those gorgeous eyes of his narrowed a fraction. "Well, pardon me." His rich voice sounded a little rougher, like he was irritated with me.

"I'm not the president." At his blank look, I clarified. "He's the one with pardoning powers. If I had those, I'd get Pete Rose unbanned from baseball. But I don't. Instead, I'm the one telling you to hurry up and order. Some of us have places to be."

"You didn't have to shove me."

"Au contraire, my friend. I did have to shove you. It was actually the least damaging of all the moves I considered. You're welcome. Now, are you going to order, or can I go ahead?"

They eyes narrowed even more before a smirk appeared on his face. Damn sexy smirky face. I wanted to punch it. Then kiss it better. And then probably punch it again because I'd probably hate him even more once I kissed him.

"I'll order."

He turned a little ways and grinned at the barista. She pretty much spontaneously combusted, or her panties did, or something. She smiled back at him, looking almost drunk. Perhaps she'd been sampling some of the espresso shots or something. No, she wanted to sample him. So much for sisterly solidarity at Starbucks. That would be a great name for a book or a band. I needed to remember to write that down.

"I'll have a Venti Flat White with Soy, double sugar in the raw, and an extra shot, extra hot." He said extra hot with a caress of the tongue that took care of the rest of barista's clothes. It might have done the same to mine, except for the fact that he'd just ordered the douchiest drink I could even think of concocting.

"Are you serious?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

He flicked a quick glance at me, and his smile grew wider. "Deadly." Then, calm as you please, he brought his phone back to his ear. "Sorry, J, had to order my coffee."

Coffee? He had the balls to call that abomination of a drink coffee? It was a slap in the face to real coffee everywhere.

The barista, betrayer of woman-kind, got busy making his stupid drink. I couldn't even stand to watch the process, so I glared at Suit Man while he talked to his friend. He kept grinning at me, which was also irritating.

When his drink was ready, he paid and gave me a little salute. I gave him one back, using only one finger because I was economical like that. He laughed and headed out to whatever ridiculous job he held. I judged who'd ever hired him. Probably a besotted woman, or a gay man, for that matter. We were equally susceptible to douchebags.

"What can I get you?"

"A Grande Pike, no room."

She nodded and made my drink, a hell of a lot faster than his monstrosity had taken.

I paid and hurried inside the building where my interview was being held, sipping my drink all the way. Ahh, heaven. I could feel it coursing through my veins, giving me life and purpose and joy. Everything the Armani Asshole had sucked out of me with his coffee-blocking, cunty-drinking ways.

I arrived on the seventeenth floor at exactly 10:03 AM. So, I was a few minutes late, but it wasn't terrible. The secretary gave me a judgey smile, though. She'd obviously skipped her morning coffee.

"Isabella Swan?" she asked. Was that a tone? It sounded like a tone. Like she knew I had no chance at this job and wondered why I was even wasting my time being here.

"Yes. That's me."

She dialed a number. "Ms. Swan has arrived."

Unspoken was the word "finally," but I heard it her tone. Bitch. I bet if she'd had my morning ,she'd have been a lot later. She looked like she spent a lot of time in front of the mirror.

"Yes, sir."

She stood and walked toward the big black doors. "Mr. Cullen will see you now."

I took one last gulp of my beloved coffee before setting it on the table outside the office. Judgey McJudgerson made a sound of distress but didn't say anything. Good. She'd probably throw it away while I was in there. Depending upon how the interview went, I might kick her ass if she did. We'd wait and see.

She pushed open the door, and I brushed past her, kind of, maybe a little, pushing her aside. That's what she got for her tone, though.

I stepped into the room, taking in the wall of windows that gave off a gorgeous view of the city. My eyes slid over the sleek black desk. Mr. Cullen stood, and I stepped toward him, smile on my face, hand outstretched and holy fucking shit! It couldn't be. But it was.

Drink Douche was in front of me, his smirk even smirkier than before, which I wouldn't have thought possible, but somehow it was.

"Ms. Swan. It's a delight to meet you. I'm Edward Cullen." His hand closed over mine, which was frozen in place along with the rest of me. The hard squeeze he gave me jolted me back to reality. I was so screwed.

"Why don't you have a seat? I think we have loads to discuss." His eyes moved over me. "Would you like something to drink?"

And the smirky smirk got even smirkier.

Fuck it. It wasn't like I was getting this job now anyway. "I'm quite sure you don't have anything suited to my taste."

"We'll have to see about that, won't we? That will be all, Ms. Davis."

"Wait!" I stopped her before she could close the door and grabbed my coffee from where I'd left it. I was going to need it.

I turned back to the Suit…er, Mr. Cullen and lifted my cup in a toast. "Let's do this."


End file.
